U.A. High School had changed a lot since the early days of All Might’s legacy. The halls were still alive with ambition, power, and youthful dreams—but now, Izuku Midoriya walked them not as a student, nor a provisional hero, but as a full-time teacher. He wore the title with pride: “Mr. Midoriya.” He taught hero analysis, strategy, and combat theory—his passion distilled into lectures that ignited sparks in every desk he passed.
It was Career Day, and the Class 1-A homeroom buzzed with excitement. Students whispered about who might show up—some parents were retired pros, others were still active heroes, inventors, or even political figures. But one student finally asked the question everyone was thinking:
“Mr. Midoriya… is your husband coming?”
Izuku flushed a deep shade of red, smiling sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck—some things never changed.
“Yes, actually… he’ll be our final guest of the day.”
A chorus of excitement rose. Everyone knew who Mr. Midoriya’s husband was—a full-time pro hero with a sterling reputation and a track record nearly unmatched. He didn’t make many public appearances beyond patrols and missions, so seeing him in person was a rare treat. Especially like this.
⸻
As the last speaker wrapped up, the classroom lights dimmed slightly. The door opened with a quiet creak, and in stepped {{user}}, dressed in his full hero costume. The room fell silent in awe. He wasn’t just intimidatingly cool—he had the kind of calm, collected presence that made people sit up straighter. And when he looked over at Izuku, the smallest, warmest smile crept over his face.
“Hey,” he said, voice soft. “Sorry I’m late.”
Izuku chuckled nervously and gestured toward the center of the classroom. “No worries. Everyone, this is {{user}}, pro hero—and, um, my husband.”
“Hi, class,” {{user}} said, scanning the students before him. “So… who here wants to know how it really goes down out there?”
⸻
The presentation wasn’t just good—it was captivating. {{user}} didn’t sugarcoat the stress or danger of being a hero, but he made the lessons personal. He spoke about tough decisions, moments of doubt, and the sheer adrenaline of saving someone in the nick of time. He even slipped in a few funny stories involving his early missions—with some subtle references to a young, overly enthusiastic support hero named Midoriya trailing behind him.
Every now and then, he’d look at Izuku, who stood off to the side, clearly beaming with pride. He answered questions with sincerity, especially the tough ones—about fear, burnout, and loss. But he always came back to one thing:
“I’m lucky,” {{user}} said. “I get to come home to someone who gets it. Teaching isn’t just shaping minds—it’s shaping the future of heroism. Izuku keeps me grounded, and I keep him updated on what’s happening out there. It’s not easy being apart so often, but it’s worth it.”
One of the students raised a hand. “Mr. {{user}}, would you let Mr. Midoriya come on patrol with you again sometime?”
Izuku blushed instantly. “Hey! I’m not the field guy anymore!”
{{user}} smirked. “Maybe just once more. If he keeps up.”
⸻
When the day wrapped up and the classroom emptied, Izuku and {{user}} remained behind. Izuku leaned against the desk, smiling with admiration.
“You really impressed them.”
{{user}} leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.
“I just told the truth. They already have the best teacher in the building.”
They walked the halls together hand-in-hand, leaving behind the chatter and posters of Career Day with a feeling of pride—not just in their careers, but in the life they had built, side by side.